Odd Ideas
by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: Weird ficlets and partial stories. Including Azkaban!Harry, Alternateuniverse!Harry, universetravel!Harry, DarkAngel!Harry, Horcrux!Harry, Assassin!Harry and others.
1. Hetty Potter: Counterparts Meet

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Harry Potter is soon to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts when a female counterpart from another universe appears. Can Hetty Potter be the force to turn this war?**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Henrietta Lily Potter – almost universally known as Hetty – waved her wand in a complex pattern as she chanted the ancient words. She was only just eighteen, but appeared to be older and more experienced than such a young age should allow. The great green eyes, once so bright and expressive, were now emotionless but for the battle-weary look that crept in when she was able to relax. Her habitual expression was equally unreadable, but for the narrowed, calculating eyes that instantly appraised every situation.

Hetty's long hair was the usual black, springy mess, a problem which she solved by putting it into a braid which was then wound around her head and pinned securely. She was slightly taller than average, for a girl her age, and slim, but unusually fit. Instead of wearing ordinary robes, Hetty wore a set of bottle-green combat robes. Made of some resistant material, these buttoned to the waist before developing a slit down the front and back, allowing for easy movement. Underneath was worn a pair of stretchy yet durable black pants. Completing the ensemble were a pair of reinforced dragon-hide boots, a wand holster a bit below her left arm, and several daggers concealed about her person. The entire outfit was covered by a black hooded cloak.

Hetty had lived a hard life. Abused by her only living relatives, her happiness at Hogwarts had been short-lived thanks to the return of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Informed that only she could defeat him, Hetty had trained to fight, while one by one the people she cared for fell. By sixteen she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; within six months she was a major strategist and commander, leading others in battle. Dumbledore had died, the Ministry had fallen, and those of the Light that remained rallied around Hetty, depending on her to lead the war against Voldemort. It had taken a couple of years, and untold lives, but finally Voldemort was dead.

The Ministry had been reinstated, after its form had been given a major overhaul and a complete revision of the laws were made. The wizarding world was beginning to recover, and as far as Hetty was concerned, she was no longer needed. All she wanted now was to live her life, somewhere where she wouldn't be bothered and where she could pretend to be a normal teenage girl. Somewhere where her friends weren't all dead. That was why she had spent the last few months continuing research begun by Albus Dumbledore before the First War, designed to transfer a person from one universe to another. As Hetty finished the incantation, she only hoped that she would land somewhere that held better prospects for her than this world did.

888888888888

Harry James Potter was, to put it bluntly, having a miserable summer. Over the years he had been subjected to a great deal of – unpleasantness – at the Dursley's hands, but this year had been worst of all. Harry didn't really know why things had gotten so extreme this summer. He'd always been treated unkindly, underfed, and occasionally smacked about the head; now, however, things were much, much worse. Uncle Vernon had begun drinking in the evenings, and whenever he'd had a fair bit to drink he made his way upstairs and beat Harry up, leaving him bloody and bruised every night. Knowing that Harry couldn't be seen in such condition, the Dursley's were only letting him out once a day, and that to use the bathroom for five minutes; otherwise he was ignored until Vernon's nightly visit. He wasn't even being brought food a lot of the time.

Harry lay curled up on his bed, breathing raggedly. His entire body throbbed, and he felt dangerously faint. One eyes was swollen almost shut, the rest of his body covered in bruises and gashes. It hurt every time he breathed, and Harry suspected that some of his ribs were broken.

What the hell was the Order doing? He hadn't written, even been seen for weeks, let alone written every three days like he was supposed to. Wasn't he under guard? Where were the people meant to be watching him? Honestly, the outcome of the war against Voldemort depended upon _him_, and they didn't even to bother to check that he was okay every now then?

Not to mention Ron and Hermione. Some friends they were. An owl had delivered some letters a couple of times, and the owl had been chased off by Vernon, the letters thrown in his room. Harry had managed to drag himself over to read them. '_Honestly, Harry, why aren't you writing?' 'How did you go in your OWLs?' 'Did you hear the Cannons won a match?' 'You're not sulking again, are you Harry? You know we can't tell you anything.'_ Harry had been at first incredulous at his friend's indifference to his lack of response, then bitter. When it had finally sunk in that they weren't going to be of any help to him, he had simply laughed, almost hysterically, all the while crying at the pain it triggered from his ribs. After a while he'd stopped laughing and simply continued crying, silently. No one cared, no one worried about him. He could die here, and they wouldn't even notice that anything was wrong until he didn't show up to school.

Harry was lying in the darkness when there was a sudden _BOOM_ and the house shook. He froze and listened furiously, heart hammering in his chest, dread sweeping over him as he made out spells among the shouts and yells. There was a shriek, no doubt from Aunt Petunia, and a bellow from Vernon. Harry heard him go thumping his room to investigate.

Once again, Harry simply wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. Here he was, the hope of the wizarding world, put in such bad shape that he doubted he'd be able to cast a single spell, even if Vernon hadn't taken his wand.

Harry sighed. Life sucked.

888888888888

Hetty landed with a thump in the darkness, automatically dropping into a crouch to absorb the force of her landing. Instantly all her danger alerts were on; there was shouting and screaming nearby, and the flashes of colored light that usually meant a wizard battle.

Hetty swore inside her head and moved in a rapid half-crouch toward the source of the chaos.

_I'm in Privet Drive!_ She thought in amazement as she ran, recognizing the street even at night. Back home half the street had been blown to pieces after Death Eaters had attacked her aunt and uncle's house; Hetty had survived, but the Dursley's had not.

Hetty swore mentally once again as she beheld the battle going on outside number four. Then, taking a deep breath, she began creeping around to the back of the house. If there was another Hetty Potter living there, then the priority right now was to get her out.

Hetty was fine until she was a few minutes within the back door. One of the Death Eaters spotted her, and moved to curse her; Hetty instantly sprang into action. Dodging the Death Eater's aim she shot off a spell of her own before they could get more than halfway through the curse. The Death Eater fell, a hole blasted through the centre of their chest, alerting the other Death Eaters to her presence.

For a few moments, Hetty was fighting off attacks from every side; as she continued to fight using her wand she ducked and used her left hand to pull a dagger out of her boot, straightening up again to stab the nearest Death Eater. Another few moments and the Death Eaters all lay around her feet. She had to act quickly; no doubt more Death Eaters would make their way to the back door, and then there'd be even more trouble.

Hetty blasted through a window and swung herself through, landing on carpet and broken glass in the living room. She moved swiftly towards the stairs; Uncle Vernon was making sure the door was secure, and knowing that she didn't have time to waste speaking, shot a stunner at his back. She dashed up the stairs, pausing as she reached what had been her room, the door secured with six separate locks. Hetty _alohamora-_ed them all, opened the door and stepped through.

She could make out a crumpled shape in the moonlight, curled up in the middle of the bed. Quick, shallow breaths filled the air.

"_Lumos_," Hetty ordered, and a bright light sprang from the tip of her wand. She gasped.

A boy lay on the bed, probably a year or two younger than she was. He has black hair like hers, and one brilliant green eye watched her fiercely. What really startled her, though, was the terrible condition he was in.

"_Christ!_" Hetty exclaimed under her breath. Still, no time to think about it now. "Okay, kid, we need to get you out of here. Where's your wand?"

With obvious pain the boy pointed at a drawer on his dresser, to which a padlock had somehow been attached. Hetty unlocked it and sure enough, a wand was sitting on top of some clothes. She pulled it out and stuck it in her holster.

"Listen up, okay? The house is swarming with Death Eaters, and they're going to be up here any minute. I'm going to Apparate you out, 'kay?"

Without waiting for an answer she knelt on the bed and wrapped an arm around the boy, who promptly screamed in agony. _Bugger,_ Hetty thought, but Apparated both of them away to Hogwarts.

Actually, to be strictly accurate, the two Apparated to just outside the Hogwarts wards. The boy continued to scream.

"Ah, shit," Hetty observed. "_Petrificus Totalis!_"

The boy's arms snapped to his sides, his body wrenching itself straight. Hetty winced in sympathy, but it had to be done. Levitating her new charge, Hetty began the long walk up to the castle.

888888888888

When Harry had heard the locks on his door spring open, he was convinced that he was doomed. Then a decidedly female voice had gasped "_Christ!_" in undoubted shock and concern, and Harry realized, with sudden hope, that he might get rescued after all. He was still suspicious – after all, this woman was a complete stranger – but when she appeared to want to help him out of there, he decided to take his chances.

When she held him she inadvertently put pressure on his ribs, and the sheer, searing pain had made him cry out. They arrived at Hogwarts, a point in her favour, and so Harry had no idea what to make of it when she cast _Petrificus Totalis_ on him and began levitating him.

The woman glanced sideways at him.

"Sorry 'bout that," she told him. "You're less likely to have things move out of alignment while you're being levitated if you're frozen like that. Who are you, anyway?"

Harry rolled a startled eye in her direction. Surely she was kidding.

"I mean," she continued, "you've got hair and eyes just like mine, so, what, you must be my counterpart then. Never thought you'd be a boy. How odd's that? Several years younger than me, too. Sorry to ramble on. My name's Hetty, Hetty Potter."

Harry's brain froze.

_Potter?_

Who the hell _was_ she? Some kind of long-lost relative? Cousin? What? What the –

"No," the girl said calmly, seemingly able to divine his thoughts, "we're not related. I am a version of _you_, from another universe. Long and complicated story. I'm assuming, since you got attacked by Death Gobblers back there –" If Harry could have laughed, he would have; she made the Death Eaters sound like turkeys or something " – that Moldy-Voldy's still around in this universe."

She didn't seem to expect an answer, which was good seeing as how he was still frozen. She lapsed into silence the, leaving Harry to think furiously about the night's events, and his bewildering rescuer.


	2. Betrayed: Out and Slytherin

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Harry was thrown is Azkaban for killing Ginny. Now he's out, declared innocent. With the help of Snape and Harry's mysterious friend, the now-cynical Slytherin Harry's going to make sure that life goes his way for once.**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

_Harry stared dully at them all. He had been silenced for trying to speak his innocence. Now he sat in the dock, as the cold, hard truth sank into his bones, as he saw the cold faces looking back at him. Faintly he could hear Fudge triumphantly announcing a guilty verdict, but he was barely aware of it; all he knew was that his friends, the people he considered family, had turned against him, condemned him, without giving him any chance to prove his innocence._

_He hadn't killed Ginny. He hadn't. He didn't even know what had happened, no one had told him. He'd been seized by the Ministry and thrown in a holding cell, and when he was dragged in chains to the courtroom instead of helping him, as he had expected, everyone he knew and loved had stared at him stonily. One by one they got up and betrayed him, even Ron and Hermione testifying against him. Ron and Hermione, the two people he cared most for in the world. Something inside him broke, and was quickly consumed by an all-pervading coldness that spread outwards from the centre of his soul. Now, as he was dragged away, the green eyes lifted, looking dead and lifeless in the narrow face. _

_For one, fleeting moment, Harry's eyes met Snape's; the latter's held some indefinable gleam that sparked something before all emotions died once more. The Potions professor suppressed the urge to shudder as the piercing, otherworldly eyes looked at him dully. _

'_I shall never trust again,' the boy mouthed. An instant later the moment was broken as the boy was hustled from the room._

_But Snape was haunted by those green eyes, and the despairing understanding he had seen. _

Harry turned his head slightly as the hinges of the cell door squealed in protest, expecting to see either one of the aurors that patrolled the prison, or Nerida, on one of her periodic visits.

Instead, he was shocked to see, out of the corner of his eye, none other than Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said gravely. Harry turned his head to stare at him blankly, keeping all signs of comprehension from his face. What the devil were these bastards doing here?

In all his time at Azkaban, Harry had never gone insane, although at times it was a close call. It was his innocence, he supposed. No one knew this, however. They all thought him insane, all but Nerida. No one bothered with the insane, even if they were the infamous Harry Potter.

He continued his charade now as the two men looked at him sadly. Remus blanched as he got a good look at Harry, emaciated and clad in tattered, damp robes, hair a mass of snarls and eyes empty, but the only indication that Dumbledore had noticed his state was the increase of gravity in the blue eyes.

"We're here to take you home, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Remus didn't look as though he were capable of speech, staring at Harry. "You've been pardoned. The ministry has discovered that you were innocent of the murder of Ginny Weasley."

Harry just stared at him.

When Dumbledore sighed and moved forward to help him up, Harry shrank back into the corner.

"Harry, it's us," Remus said shakily, putting forward a hand. "We won't hurt you."

Harry bit him.

Harry watched with dark satisfaction as the werewolf jerked his hand away reflexively, a shattered look in his eyes. Ha. Served him right. Sure, they might not hurt him _now_, but what they'd done in the past more than made up for their lack of hostile intentions at present.

Remus looked helplessly at Albus, who sighed again as he looked at the wreck that was Harry Potter.

_Oh, my boy, what have we done to you?_ he wondered sadly.

"We just want to take you away from here, Harry," he said calmly, none of his inner grief showing in his eyes or voice. "Back to Hogwarts."

For the first time since they had arrived, Harry showed some signs of life.

"Hogwarts?" he asked wonderingly. It was little more than a croak really. Remus winced.

"Yes, Harry. Hogwarts."

His eyes lost some of the dead look and he burst out into a spate of excited hissing.

Unbeknownst to the two wizards staring at him bemusedly, Harry was not animatedly discussing his prospective return to Hogwarts, but was indulging in a rant of fury at the two men.

"_You fucking bastards! You think you can just take me back there after everything you've done? That I can return to Hogwarts and everything will be okay? Fuck that! I'm going to make sure that every one of you gets what you deserve for abandoning and betraying me!_"

As Harry was gently led from the prison, his mind was furiously going over all the possibilities.

888888888888

Severus swept into the room dreading the sight that he was about to see. He'd heard all about Potter's condition, about how he didn't speak or recognize anyone, about how he'd been _so_ thin and unkempt… The boy's former friends had come away from seeing him almost in hysterics. The Weasley woman and the Granger girl in particular had come away in tears. As for the Weasley boy, who had been the most vociferous of those who had put Potter in prison, he had come away pale and shaking and had allegedly been heard throwing up in the boys toilets afterwards.

Severus was glad at their guilt. Of all those who knew Potter, all his friends and surrogate family, it had been the one man who disliked him who had believed him innocent. Snape might not have liked the boy, but he knew better than to think that he would murder anyone, let alone the Weasley girl. Everyone had known about the way Potter had felt about her, and it was absurd to suppose that he would kill the subject of his silly little crush. But no one had listened to him; after all, he was just the greasy potions master, the ex-Death Eater spy that all of them loved to hate.

And now, Severus had been proved right, and he was about to get his first look at the boy since he had been dragged out of the courtroom in chains.

Snape walked warily into the hospital wing, down to the bed at the end, hidden by a screen to keep nosy students away. Snape pushed it aside and paused, evaluating what he saw.

Potter had been placed in clean pajamas and tucked in among clean, soft sheets. His hair had clearly been washed and combed thoroughly, and possibly trimmed, although it was hard to tell with that bird's nest of hair. A good wash had cleansed the boy of all the Azkaban grime, but nothing hid the unnatural pallor of his sun-deprived skin, or the way it was stretched tight over his bones. The slightly rounded, boyish face of yore was gone, replaced by a thin, angular face missing the usual plumpness of youth. It would probably never return, Severus reflected. He'd seen people in this condition before, and even if they completely recovered they rarely regained the fat tissue in the face that slowly dispersed over time. Personally, he thought that, ill-health aside, he liked Potter's new face; small though the changes were, they nonetheless combined to make him look quite different from his father, which could only be a good thing.

Sensing the scrutiny, Potter's eyes opened, enormous and brilliant in his thin face, and further widening the rift between his appearance and his father's. Snape couldn't help but feel regret at the blankness in the boy's gaze.

"So I hear that you're insane, Potter," he said quietly. There was no response, but Severus hadn't expected one. "My condolences. At least you're spared the tedious stream of repentance that your former friends insist on sending your way."

For a moment, there was a glint of something in the green eyes before it vanished almost instantly, but Snape's sharp eyes caught it anyway. A sharp bubble of hope stirred within him. Perhaps Potter wasn't as far gone as everyone thought, and with time would improve.

"Personally," he continued contemplatively, "I would prefer that you were sane, merely so that I could witness your reaction to the crawling apologies that half the world seems to be making. You always had a quick temper, and it would be interesting to see whether or not you would forgive them."

The green eyes stared vacantly as he got up and prepared to leave.

"No fucking way."

Severus whirled, and his jaw started to drop before he caught it and shut his mouth with a snap. Potter was watching him with a gaze that was perfectly lucid, a slight, crooked smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. The potions master gaped. Then –

"You Slytherin, Potter."

Potter's crooked smirk merely grew.

"_Touché_."

Snape sat heavily in the chair and glared at him, out of habit.

"You realize that every person who has visited you has been berating themselves for helping to send you insane?"

"Well," the boy replied calmly, and his voice had a slightly rusty note to it, "I thought that perhaps it help would drive home the enormity of their actions."

"It certainly has. Half of them spend all their time in tears. I even have it on good authority that Weasley spent the greater part of the night purging his stomach of its contents."

"Really?" Potter seemed delighted. "Oh, brilliant."

Snape couldn't help the sharp yelp of laughter that escaped him at that.

"What about Dumbledore and Remus?" the boy questioned.


	3. Betrayed: Revenge Marauder Style

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Harry was thrown is Azkaban. Now he's out, and the world wants his help. That's a pity. Because the only thing that Harry is planning to do is make sure that they regret betraying him – Marauder-style. And the one person who stood by him, Ginny Weasley, is going to help him as much as she can.**

**Humorous, maybe parody? Harry/Ginny.**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

_flashback_

_Harry stared dully at them all. He had been Silenced for trying to speak his innocence some time back. Now he sat in the dock, as the cold, hard truth sank into his bones, as he saw the cold faces looking back at him. Faintly he could hear Fudge triumphantly announcing a guilty verdict, but he was barely aware of it; all he knew was that his friends, the people he considered family, had turned against him, condemned him, without giving him any chance to prove his innocence._

_He hadn't killed Colin. He hadn't. He didn't even know what had happened, no one had told him. He'd been seized by the Ministry and thrown in a holding cell, and when he was dragged in chains to the courtroom instead of helping him, as he had expected, everyone he knew and loved had stared at him stonily. One by one they got up and betrayed him, even Ron and Hermione testifying against him. Ron and Hermione, the two people he cared most for in the world. Something inside him broke, and was quickly consumed by an all-pervading coldness that spread outwards from the centre of his soul. Now, as he was dragged away, the green eyes lifted, looking dead and lifeless in the narrow face. _

_For one, fleeting moment, Harry's eyes met Snape's; the latter's held some indefinable gleam that sparked something before all emotions died once more. The Potions professor suppressed the urge to shudder as the piercing, otherworldly eyes looked at him dully. _

'_I shall never trust again,' the boy mouthed. An instant later the moment was broken as the boy was hustled from the room._

_But Snape was haunted by those green eyes, and the despairing understanding he had seen. _

_end flashback_

Harry glared at them all.

"What, and so now you just expect me all to forgive you?"

The shuffling that took place among the assembled confirmed his words.

"We really are sorry, Harry," Mr Weasley ventured. Harry ignored him.

"You send me to Azkaban," he demanded, "for one year, two weeks, and thirteen days, where I was forced to relive all my worst memories, all alone, starving, haunted by the fact that everyone I loved and trusted had turned on me, and now you expect me to forgive you just because you're _sorry?_"

"Precisely, Potter," Snape smirked. Several people glared at him, but Snape just sneered at them. He was enjoying this.

Harry snorted, and looked around at the hopeful, uncomfortable or guilty faces.

"Not fucking likely."

Harry stormed off to have a long-needed shower, while behind him everyone reflected that their little meeting had not gone well.

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Harry strolled out of his bedroom toweling his hair, marveling at the softness of his robes as they swished around him. They'd given him robes in several colors, but Harry had obstinately chosen black. It felt so odd to be clean, and dressed in normal clothing. He had been so filthy, his robes little more than rags. He had been in the shower for more than two hours, scouring his skin and scrubbing his hair. Layers of dirt and grime had slowly been washed away with the soap and the blissfully hot water, while after ruthless combing and being drenched in soap and shampoo, Harry's hair had finally resumed a tolerable state.

His skin was awfully pale now, and stretched tight over his thin frame. Looking in the mirror, Harry had catalogued all the changes in his appearance. His face was rather pinched and bony now, having lost all the fat reserves normally present in the faces of young people. Harry doubted he'd ever get them back. He didn't mind, really. With better health he'd no doubt be quite striking, with his brilliant green eyes dominating his thin, angular face, and the jet-black hair lying in unruly waves.

Now, as he walked into his main room, these thoughts were abruptly cut short by the sight of the young sitting on his couch. A true smile appeared as he greeted the one person who had stood by him.

"Ginny!"

Ginny smiled delightedly at the sight of her friend looking better than he had in months. She stood up and gave him a hug that he returned awkwardly, before pulling him down onto the couch beside her. He sank back with a sigh and closed his eyes. His energy and stamina were quite low, and he was going to be on nutrient and strength-restoration potions for quite some time. All the scrubbing he had done in the shower had tired him out.

"I suppose they're all discussing me and my alarming attitude right now?" he asked, smirking slightly.

Ginny snorted.

"Yep. The idiots all thought you'd just forgive them. Mum's cried buckets already. They're all going on about how you've been affected by the Dementors and how you need to let go and forgive them so that 'your hated won't consume you.' It was kind of amusing, actually."

Harry sighed.

"Typical."

"What are you going to do now?" Ginny asked curiously.

A slow, rather Slytherin smile spread over Harry's face and he opened his eyes slightly so that the green could glint at her.

"Well," he said brightly, "first I'm going to go get new stuff seeing as how it was all destroyed, including a new wand. After that? Revenge, of course, my dear Gin."

At her interested look, he elaborated slightly.

"The Marauders shall return to Hogwarts."

At the delighted, if somewhat evil expression that spread over her face, Harry began to explain his plan.


	4. Dark Angel

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**On his sixteenth birthday, Harry undergoes a bewildering transformation and becomes a completely new person, inside and out. Ever heard of a dark angel?**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Harry Potter. Such a famous name. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The one who defeated Voldemort. The saviour. So many knew of him, but few had met him, and even fewer knew him. And none, none at all, knew the secrets held within that bright but weary soul. Not even he did. Only after his sixteenth birthday did this begin to become clear.

Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. It is late at night, and all is quiet and dark; they're all sensible, respectable people in this neighbourhood, not the kind to be gallivanting about when all reasonable people are in bed. The moonlight shines in through a window onto a black-haired boy, who sleeps restlessly. And then the clock strikes midnight, and the boy begins to scream.

Vernon jerked awake as he heard the horrible sound.

"It's the boy again!" his wife shrilled next to him. "He's screaming again!"

Vernon thought several words that he didn't dare say in front of his wife.

"Right," he grunted, swinging his feet out of bed and reaching for his dressing gown. "I'll go sort him out."

The being that had previously thought of himself as Harry Potter abruptly stopped screaming and fell to his knees with a gasp as the pain stopped. A moment later his brain finished resorting itself. Harry lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at the enormous, feathery wings folded against his back.

"Great," he muttered at them. "What am I, a 'weird shit' magnet? Wings. Bloody wings. Why the hell do I have wings?" He paused, blinking. "For that matter, why do I feel like I've had a complete personality and intelligence transplant? This is weird. Oh so weird. Even for me."

The sound of a key in the locks on his door made him whirl. A moment later the door slammed open.

"_BOY_ - "

Vernon stopped, looking stunned, as his brain took in the sight before him. A tall, slim young man stood in a pair of track pants, watching him. The boy's eyes glowed an eerie green in the darkness, their pupil's slitted like that of a cat. He was taller, and far more muscular than the boy that should have been standing there. But, most disturbing of all, a pair of large, black wings swept from his shoulders and down, the wing tips just touching the ground. Had Vernon been the sort to indulge in fantastic comparisons, he might have said that he was looking at a dark angel. As his imagination was limited to visions of himself celebrating enormous wealth, he in fact did not draw any such comparison, but all the same suffered a severe shock.

The young man watched as his uncle goggled, temporarily speechless. His newly-calculating mind had been whirring away, and it came to a conclusion just as Vernon recovered enough from his shock to begin spluttering.

"I am leaving." Harry's voice cut through the angry accusations and protests like a knife in butter. It was cool and impersonal, and exactly what Harry had been aiming for.

"What? You can't – "

"I don't care what that old fool thinks," Harry interrupted. "I will get dressed and pack my things, and then I shall leave. You need not fear that I will darken your doorstep every again. Now leave so that I can begin my preparations."

Vernon's small, grasping mind listened to all this while cataloguing the changes in his nephew. Yes, the boy meant it, and he doubted that those wizard idiots could stop him now after this – this latest show of _freakiness._ But –

"How can I be sure you mean it?" Vernon demanded suspiciously.

Harry glanced at him.

"I hate you, you hate me, so I'd hardly _wish_ to remain here. As for the wizards forcing me…" A slow smirk spread over his face. "Well, I'd like to see them try."

Vernon thought about it and nodded.

"Be out before I leave for work tomorrow," he ordered. The creature in front of him afforded him a moment's thought, then nodded.

"Agreed."

Harry went rummaging for some clothes as soon as his uncle left. There was no way he'd wear Dudley's old clothes now, he decided, and anyway, robes looked better with the wings. One of those plain black robes Malkin had talked him into getting… yes, with black robes and black wings, he'd likely look like a fallen angel. Most impressive.

He smirked at the thought. Maybe he could scare a few church congregations… but first, he had to finish here.

He pulled out the robes and changed into them, grabbing a comb and running it quickly through his hair. It seemed slightly neater. Odd… Harry walked down the hall to the bathroom, deciding to examine his appearance in a mirror.

He gazed at his reflection in satisfaction. Even better than he'd thought. In addition to the wings, he'd toned up, and his hair, while still somewhat messy, now fell into disordered waves rather than springing in every direction. Coolest, though – apart from the wings, that is – was that the pupils from his eyes had gone to frightening slits, while the irises gave off a faint green light.

Harry wondered if he could control how much light came from his eyes. He focused on making it brighter. Obediently the room lit up with blinding green. Harry hastily toned it down, back to where it was before. Heh. This could be fun.

_No, Harry,_ he reminded himself. _We need to pack first. Play later._

Approximately half an hour later a figure slipped outside into the darkness and launched itself into the night.

8888888888

The man stumbled and fell for what had to be the third time.

_Stupid dark lord,_ he thought, trying to summon the energy to move, even while his body screamed in agony.

Huh. He was lucky to be alive. Thank Merlin for that portkey… even if it did dump him at Hogwarts gates, leaving him to walk up to the school himself. Silly old fool, Albus could be sometimes…

Severus Snape drifted into unconsciousness.

Harry reached the Hogwarts grounds as the pale grey light of morning began to displace the dark of night. His wings ached, unused to exercise. He'd decided to turn up at Hogwarts to demand some answers from the headmaster – i.e. why do I have wings, how come my eyes are creepy, etc – as he couldn't think of anywhere else to go. If Dumbledore tried to do anything, well, then Harry would simply disappear into the grounds and sneak into the castle now and then to cadge meals off the house elves.

Harry was happily contemplating the probable effect that his new appearance would have on all who knew him when his sharp eyes picked up on a dark shape on the ground. Curiously, he dived lower.

It was a person, he realized, a person in black robes with a white mask in his hand…

_Ah,_ Harry thought. _Snapie's had a rough night, I suppose._

Sighing, the angel-creature dove further, landing next to the unconscious man in a crouch. He straightened, wings folding against his back, as he examined the man. Snape seemed to have passed out from blood loss, he noted, not bothering to wonder how in Merlin's name he knew that. He'd been hit with Cruciatus, and several slashing curses, and other things that Harry couldn't identify. He did know, however, that the man needed medical care urgently.

Shrugging to himself, Harry carefully gathered the man into his arms and stood, before heading for the castle.

"He should be back by now," she told Albus worriedly. "He's always back before dawn. Something must have happened to him."

"Correct!" announced a jovial voice. Albus and Poppy both whirled to see a tall man carrying none other than the missing Potions Master. Only as he bent to place the man on a bed did the two Hogwarts staff notice his wings. He straightened and grinned at them with a face that was familiar yet unfamiliar.

"_Harry?_" Dumbledore breathed in shock and amazement. Madam Pomfrey gaped for a moment before glaring sternly.

"Mr Potter, _why_ do you have _wings_?"

"No clue," Harry replied cheerfully. The other two blinked as they noticed the cat's-pupils. "Midnight, and I had a total metamorphosis. But hey, I've got the whole fallen-angel vibe going on now!" He spread his wings to their fullest extent so that he could admire them.

Poppy exchanged a glance with Albus, before remembering Snape and bustling over to treat him.

"Harry," the headmaster asked gently, "do you have any idea what you actually are?"

Harry looked away from his wings to smile at him. His wings folded again as he did so.

"Nope. But I've had a change of heart, and I think I should be in Slytherin now. Can I get reSorted? And do I have to keep on using the name Harry? I'd like something else instead. Maybe Mercutio."

Harry paused, apparently to consider the possibility of renaming himself Mercutio.

"No," he decided, "not angel-y enough. Azrael, perhaps?"

"Harry," Dumbledore began again, patiently, "can you tell me what happened?"

Looking serious for the first time all night – well, morning now – Harry sat down on the nearest bed and began to explain.

8888888888

Snape was dragged to reluctant consciousness by several voices, one stern and exasperated, another pleading but dignified, the third angry and interspersed with hisses.

"What a racket," he croaked irritably. There was a sudden silence, and then a _thump_ next to him and a rustling noise.

"You're awake," a voice observed. Snape recognized it immediately, and his eyes shot open and he prepared to scarify the Boy-Who-Lived.

He paused. And blinked, slowly. And stared.

Potter gave a small cheerful wave. Behind him Albus crept on noiseless feet, until he was almost close enough to touch –

Potter shot up like a fire was under him, wings flapping madly, before clinging to a rafter and glaring down at the assembled.

"I told you, _leave me alone!_" he hissed. Snape began to get an inking of what had occurred to wake him up.

"Why," he asked, trying to hold onto his patience long enough to get some answers, "does Mr Potter resemble something related to one of Hagrid's creations?"

Potter let out an indignant squawk at that and dropped, making sure that he landed on the end of the bed so that it rattled. Snape hissed in pain, and glared into the peculiar green eyes.

"We have no idea," Madam Pomfrey said angrily, "but if he would just stay still long enough for us to get a look at him –"

Potter shook his finger in her direction.

"Nuh-uh," he said firmly. "You're not messing around with me when you don't know what you might do." He went back to gazing at Snape, while behind him Albus and Poppy looked weary.

Madam Pomfrey threw her hands in the air and stalked away, muttering about stubborn young men who endangered their health.


	5. The Weirdos Unite

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Harry Potter is thrown in Azkaban, only to be befriended by a mischievously cheerful half-witch, half-Dementor. Her advice? Don't ask.**

**Then Harry discovers his own odd heritage.**

**Together they set about forming their own side in the war – a side for every abomination, aberration or outcast like them.**

**Humour, parody perhaps.**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Azkaban. Of all the places in the world to be, Harry Potter would not have chosen Azkaban. Unfortunately, the young man didn't have a choice. Two students and a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were dead, and all evidence pointed at Harry. He didn't even get a trial; convinced that his precious saviour had gone Dark, Dumbledore had _supported_ Fudge in throwing Harry in prison straight away. So it was that Harry found himself huddled in a corner on the smooth stone floor in the cold and damp and dark, while the grime and dirt left its mark upon him.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually a figure hidden by an ethereal, floating cloak came close to the bars, radiating a chill that sucked the heat from his skin and chilled his bones. Harry shivered at the cold, but oddly no painful memories leapt to the surface. Thus, Harry was perfectly aware when the Dementor – for what else could it be but one of the dread guards of Azkaban? – opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind itself.

For a moment they just stared at each other, Dementor and human, jailer and prisoner. Then, to Harry's surprise, the frosty air abated, and the Dementor sat on the floor, arms swathed in black coming up to wrap around its knees.

"Hi."

Harry blinked.

"Uh, hi?" Since when did Dementors sound like teenage females?

The Dementor tilted its head on one side.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" Great. Even the bloody Dementors knew him!

"Um, yeah."

"You're innocent," the creature stated conversationally. "Every Dementor in the building's been gossiping about it. Not much else to chat about round here."

Harry tried to think of a way to phrase his thoughts tactfully.

"Um, I didn't know Dementors talked."

He sensed rather than saw the creature grin.

"They don't," it replied matter-of-factly. One hand swept up and pushed the hood of the cloak back, revealing the face of a perfectly ordinary, rather pretty teenage girl.

Once again, Harry was back to blinking.

"But why…?"

"I'm half-Dementor," the girl explained, instantly recognising his bemused expression. "My father was a Dementor, my mother a witch. Personally, I prefer not to think about how I came about. You probably don't want to either."

His look of revulsion informed her that her warning came too late.

"You mean they, uh…"

"Yep," she confirmed cheerfully. Harry sat in silence, digesting this information.

"Eww."

"Most definitely," she agreed.


	6. Unexpected Dimensions

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**After a spell gone wrong, Harry and a Slytherin girl find themselves spiralling from universe to universe, collecting other Harrys – and, unfortunately, Voldemorts – on the way.**

**Every universe is based on a separate fanfic "alternate reality." Some serious, some funny.**

**(Shameless plug:**

**Inspired by –but quite different from – _Pandora's Box_ by _Minnionette_. If you're going to read only one chapter of that – even if it's a great story – than you have to read chapter twenty three. It's hilarious.)**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

It was all that Slytherin girl's fault.

Harry was walking along, minding his own business. When he heard someone muttering in another language, it was quite natural for him to follow the voice to see what was going on. And when he saw her, standing on the grass and clearly performing a complicated ritual, it was equally natural for him to go running forward yelling about what in Merlin's name she was doing. It wasn't his fault that he didn't see the pentacle. And it was equally not his fault that he knocked over the bowl of sludge and sent it flying over the grass just as she made the final incantation.

Not in the slightest.

The fact that they were now sitting, in the dark, in an unidentified wood, was entirely _her_ fault. After all, what kind of a person would be daft enough to perform that kind of spell at somewhere like Hogwarts?

The girl groaned and sat up, horrified realisation spreading over her face. It was the new girl, he realised, what's-her-name Mallory, who had had joined Hogwarts at the start of the year. Dark-haired and green-eyed, she had been fairly quiet, and what the other students classified as a 'loner.' Now her eyes blazed with fury in a way that reminded Harry forcibly of Mrs Weasley, or Ginny.

"YOY FLAMING _IDIOT!_" she yelled at him. "YOU MESSED UP THE SPELL! LORD _KNOWS_ WHAT THE HELL YOU'VE DONE!"

"It's not my fault!" Harry yelled back. "What in Merlin's name were you doing, doing a spell like that where just anyone could come along? What was it, anyway?"

"It _was_," she said with clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on the _was_, "a spell to carry me back in time. God knows what it ended up as after you messed it up. Thanks, Potter. The others were right. You're trouble personified."

Harry scowled, but said,

"Right now I think we ought to worry about where we are." He looked around, before pulling out his wand. "_Point me_ other people." The wand spun until the tip was facing away to the left. "Come on. This way."

They walked for some time in the moonlight, without speaking to each other. At first the girl muttered angrily about nosy busybodies and interfering bastards with a hero complex, but after a while even they died away into silence and she walked along without a sound but for the crunch of her shoes in the leaves. Until –

"Is that a light?" she asked suddenly. Harry peered forward. Sure enough, a light shone faintly in the distance. They hurried towards it, and as they grew closer saw that the light came from a house set in a small clearing up ahead.

The girl was moving forward, thankfulness evident on her face, when Harry caught her arm.

"_What?_" she hissed, glaring at him in a fashion that would have impressed even Snape.

"_Are you mad?_" he demanded in a near-whisper. "Anybody could be in there! It could be full of Death Eaters for all we know!"

She wrenched her arm free and strode forward to bang on the door, looking fiercely at him all the while.

"I don't care!" she yelled. "We're lost in the dark, at night, in the cold, with no idea where we are! I don't give a stuff if it's _Voldemort_ in there as long as we're somewhere warm and comfortable!"

She finished yelling and turned around as the door opened, to find herself facing a tall, pale man with dark hair and handsome features, and ominous red eyes.

He smiled pleasantly into her startled face.

"Ah," he said mildly. "That would be a good thing." The girl took a step backwards and crashed into Harry, who had been staring frozen to the spot at the sight of a Voldemort who couldn't be older than twenty. For a moment Harry clutched at her trying to set them both back on balance while she let out an alarmed squawk, arms windmilling wildly. Balance restored after several unsteady seconds, the girl grabbed Harry's sleeve with both hands and rested her forehead against his arm.

"I think I'm going to both laugh and cry hysterically."

Ordinarily Harry would have been rather ruffled at such familiar contact, and from a Slytherin of all people, but he barely noticed as he continued to stare at Voldemort where he still stood standing in the doorway.

"Do come in," Voldemort said, just as affably as before. "It's quite cold out, after all, and I could hardly leave you here to freeze. Make yourselves welcome." And he stood back, holding the door open, leaving a path for them to walk inside.

After a moment, with the queerest expression on her face – Harry thought that his was probably rather similar – the girl walked forward into the house. Harry reluctantly followed.

"I'm sure a cup of tea would do you both good," Voldemort said cheerfully, leading the way into a surprisingly bright sitting room. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Milk, two sugars please," said the girl, sinking down into an armchair and looking very much bemused. Voldemort turned to Harry, an eyebrow raised in polite inquiry.

"No thanks," Harry said dazedly. "Just straight, please."

"Coming right up," Voldemort assured them both, and left the room.

Harry looked around at their surroundings. They could have been in any middle-class, muggle sitting room, as long as you disregarded the things like quills and floo powder spread throughout the room. The wallpaper was nice, the carpet was attractive, the furniture tastefully upholstered. It was all so – so _normal._ How could someone as evil as Voldemort live in such a normal house?

Voldemort returned levitating a small tray with a teapot and a couple of cups of steaming tea, which he lowered on to the table. The girl thanked him and reached out for the one with milk added. Harry grabbed the other and cradled it between his hands, staring at Voldemort in sheer bewilderment. Voldemort smiled at him.

"Now," he said conversationally, "who are you?"

The girl took a sip of tea.

"Melania," she replied. "Melania Mallory."

"Melania," Voldemort mused. "From the Greek. 'The dark one.' Interesting."

Melania smiled perfunctorily.

"My family has strong connections to the ancient days," she elaborated. "And to the darkness."

"Interesting," Voldemort said again. "I've heard a great deal about the Mallorys. You don't happen to have any of their gifts, I suppose?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. "But some of them don't manifest until later in life. My uncle Roger only found out that he had the Sight after he was thirty." She frowned. "He had difficulty adjusting, I'm afraid. Found solace at the bottom of a bottle."

"Ah. Distressing." Voldemort shifted his gaze to Harry.

"Harrison Griffin," Harry replied quickly, his mind suddenly beginning to work again as the red eyes peered into his own.

The brows rose.

"And 'ruler of the army,' from the Old English," Voldemort concluded. "An interesting pair of names."

"You seem to know a lot about languages," Melania noted. His eyes rested on her assessingly.

"I was a rather studious child," he said after a moment. "I was interested in learning."

A muggle saying came to Harry's mind.

"Knowledge is power," he said quietly.

"Precisely," Voldemort smiled. He leaned forward. "Now, to what really interests me; how do you know about me when the rest of the world does not?"

Two sets of stricken green eyes, one the shade of glass bottles, the other brilliant emerald, met.

"That's a long and rather complicated story," Harry said evasively, while Melania said simply, "We're from another universe."

Harry glared at her while she gazed disdainfully back. After a moment they both looked back at Voldemort, who was waiting expectantly.

"You're a dark lord there," she expanded. "A really powerful one. They call you 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' or 'You-Know-Who' because they're too scared to say your name."

Harry poked her, hard, and she turned to give him another Snape-worthy glare.

"I see," the future Dark Lord murmured, a slow, disturbing smile curving full lips. The two of them froze and stared at him, disagreements forgotten, as he slowly stood, an aura of power gathering about him as he rose, and took a step towards them.

Harry, quite familiar with that particular smile, fled from his armchair and sprinted for the front door.

"Whatever happened to your stupid Gryffindor hero complex?" Melania shrieked from behind him, have managed to dart around Voldemort before he could do whatever nefarious thing he had been planning. "You just _left_ me there!"

"_You_ told him about who we were!" Harry pointed out, colliding with the front door at high speed and trying to open it, _oof_ing as Melania ran into him. He tugged on the handle and after a moment of fierce rattling it gave in, allowing him to fling the door open so that the two could burst out into the night like a bat out of hell was behind them. It had begun to rain some time since they went inside and was now pouring steadily, obscuring their vision, which is why at first neither of them noticed that the world had turned oddly blurry until he whipped sideways and both Melania and Harry crashed into the ground.

A rather wet Harry blinked in the sudden sunlight, for a moment failing to deduce that he had, once again, travelled between worlds. Someone was yelling at him.

"Stupid bastard!" yelled the girl he'd brought crashing down with him. Swearing, she glanced up, and both froze as they noticed certain similarities between each other.

"Bloody hells in Spain!" she blurted. They were interrupted with a scream.

"_POTTER!_"

Automatically both of them looked around to see Melania running frantically towards them, an irate Dark Lord close behind.

"_Crucio!_"

"You –"

"_Rictumsempra!_"

" – stupid "

"_Relashio!_"

Melania shrieked as that particular spell shot past her ear.

" – _bastard, _Potter_!"_

Harry's female doppelganger blinked twice

"Is that Voldemort?"

"Kind of," Harry allowed, watching the approaching pair with feelings of resigned doom.

"Oh."

"_Damn it Potter, **you're** the Dark Lord slayer!_" Melania screeched, grabbing him by the shoulders and using him as a human shield. "_Do_ something!"

Harry watched nervously as Voldemort – who was as soaked as he and Melania were – slowed to a stop, lowering his wand slightly. Harry wasn't reassured. Those scarlet eyes were blazing.

Voldemort put his face right up to Harry's, furious red eyes glaring down into frightened but defiant green ones.

"_What_," he asked, very softly, "_did you **do**_,_ boy?_"

Harry gulped, blinking fast.

"Mallory was doing a spell to send herself back in time," he explained rapidly, "and I accidentally botched it up."

"Stupid Gryffindor," Melania muttered, peering warily over Harry's shoulder. Her grip was digging into his skin.

"And, um," Harry continued, voice unusually high, "that's how we travelled universes. I don't know why it happened again, it was totally random, and we certainly didn't mean to bring you along."

Voldemort took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly everything about him stilled, and after a moment that seemed to last forever, he stepped back, eyes closed, clearly keeping himself under rigid control.

Melania's eyes promptly rolled back into her head and she dropped like a stone.

"Neat," drawled a female voice. Harry looked round to see that it was the girl he'd collided with earlier. He'd completely forgotten about her. Angry Dark Lords tend to do that to people.

She gave a lazy smile, great green eyes looking carefully between him, Voldemort and Melania.

"You might wanna do something about your friend there," she observed, gazing at where Melania was sprawled passed-out on the grass. Her eyes came back to rest on Voldemort, who was now scowling darkly.

"Wow," and her voice betrayed appreciation, "you were a real cutie before you went all snake-corpse-ish." She turned to Harry, a brighter, more real smile lighting up her face.

"Harriet Potter," she greeted him. "From that brief but enlightening explanation you gave the Dark Dude over there, I'm assuming you're my counterpart."

Harry nodded.

"Harry Potter," he introduced himself. He glanced down at Melania. "That's Melania Mallory, and I'm guessing that you already know Voldemort."

She laughed.

"We've met," she said demurely.

For the first time Harry noticed the Slytherin badge pinned to her robes.


	7. Human Horcrux Gone Wrong

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Harry Potter is a Horcrux. But over the years the soul fragment has merged with his own soul, and so when it is activated Harry James Potter ceases to exist – replaced by Harry Tom Potter, a powerful Slytherin who combines ruthless actions with strong morals. Dedicated to halting the eradication of wizarding culture without resorting to violence, Harry begins recruiting for his own side…**

**Most Harry-the-Horcrux stories involved a battle between the two souls… but what if they merged, became one? You'd have someone with the characteristics of both – the cunning, ruthlessness and darkness of Tom combined with the morals, loyalty and strength of Harry.**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

"…_there are, however, experts in the field that believe that creating a human horcrux would be quite possible under certain circumstances. One popular theory among academics is that if the host subject were of a young enough age at the time of the horcrux creation then the alien soul fragment would over time be fully integrated into the host's soul. Were this to occur, and the horcrux later activated through the death of the caster, then it is possible that the host would become an amalgamation of both the original host and of the caster – in essence, becoming neither the host nor the caster, but both, a new person formed through the combination of their personalities and experiences."_

"_The Secrets of Soul Magic," Chapter 9, by Osiris Mallory_

**----------**

_Dumbledore's face was serious, the twinkle in his eyes diminished as he outlined the purpose and possible side-effects of the spell._

"_So…" Harry thought about it. "So, if I have any magical gifts that haven't, um, manifested yet, then this spell will…"_

"_Awaken them," the headmaster finished. "But it is your choice, Harry."_

_Harry took a deep breath._

"_I'll do it," he said determinedly. "Anything that might help me to defeat Tom is worth it."_

Now, however, as Harry sat in the middle of the circle, his professors chanting, he wondering if perhaps he should have thought this through a little more. As one the professors aimed their wands at him and spoke the final incantation.

" "

He was hit by a beam of white light, faintly tinged by purple, and in that instant Harry James Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, ceased to exist.

**----------**

_Memories merged. Thoughts and feelings were twitched into new positions. Gifts were tweaked and put into place. Suppressed and splintered aspects of personality, long denied, were slotted together and made whole. Magic unraveled itself and was for the first time free._

_Harry Tom Potter slept on._

**----------**

Harry slowly drifted back towards the top of his mind, gradually regaining awareness. Merlin, he was sore; he ached in a kind of stretched fashion as though he'd been working out and used muscles he'd never known about before. His mind felt the same way.

Slowly, memory of the ritual that he had undergone returned, and Harry felt himself frown.

_I shouldn't feel this strange. What's happened?_

He felt… different. Odd.

… and strangely familiar?

Harry sighed and opened his eyes.

"Mr Potter!"

Great. Madam Pomfrey already. Harry squinted blearily at her blurry form as she slipped his glasses onto his face. He blinked as she came into focus.

"Drink this," she said briskly, holding out a small vial. Harry automatically did so, too tired and disoriented to think of arguing. A moment later he grimaced.

"Ack!" Harry spoke without thinking. "Hasn't that man ever heard of adding heather to this stuff to improve the taste?"

"Indeed, Potter," a voice drawled. "It surprises me that you have, however."

Harry froze and stared at the potions master, Occlumency shields flying up instantly as memories of reading in the library and discussing potions with Septimus Malfoy came to mind.

_Wait. Since when do I have Occlumency shields? _His eyes widened as the second important point hit him. _And since when do I know Septimus Malfoy?_

As this was some kind of cue, memory of Septimus Malfoy flashed past his mind's eye; meeting him in first year after being Sorted, discussing politics with him, watching him eyeing Ophelia Byron at the beginning of sixth year, being introduced to Septimus' small son Lucius years later…

Harry shut his eyes and took deep breaths as the realization of exactly who and what he was hit him.

_Great gods. That bloody theory was right. I'm a horcrux, but I'm more than that now. I've become a quite different thing entirely…_

After a moment his eyes opened to meet suspicious black ones.

"I heard some people discussing it in Diagon Alley once," he said, sheepishness mingled with the tone of sullen resentment that he usually greeted the man with.

Snape sneered at the inadequacy of Harry's reply.

"What effects have the spell had, Potter?"

Harry frowned, looking as though he were trying to work out the answer to Snape's question when in fact he was wondering exactly how to reply.

"I'm not sure," he replied finally. "I feel kind of weird, different, like I'm using bits of my brain I've never used before…"

Predictably, the professor sneered.

"Considering how little of it you normally use I wouldn't be surprised."

Harry hastily ducked his head to glare at his sheets as his eyes flashed red. _Oh hell. Gotta find a way to fix that._ At the same moment Severus' robes abruptly turned a startling shade of pink.

"POTTER!"

"Now, Severus, I'm sure that it was an accident," Dumbledore said from behind Snape, entering the hospital wing with his eyes twinkling. The potions master just fumed. Harry made an apologetic face, even as he allowed his eyes to dance with mirth. His eyes had always been expressive, after all; couldn't let that change too quickly.

"Sorry professor."

"Not at all Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. "How are you feeling, my boy?"

"Fine, sir." Harry used his standard answer to any query regarding his state of wellbeing. Dumbledore eyes twinkled merrily.

"Excellent!"


	8. The Riddle Twins

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Twelve years ago Voldemort got married to a powerful enchantress. Now his twin children are going to Hogwarts. Hwa?**

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

_Author's Note: (written March 2006)_

_This is a little plot bunny that has been bugging me for a while now, because the Riddle twins were so clear and real in my mind. Don't blame me for writing this highly non-canon story. Salazar and Ebony bludgeoned me round the head with my keyboard until I agreed to write their story. Then Glory lost patience and hexed me. Is it any wonder I gave in?_

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**THE RIDDLE TWINS**

**PROLOGUE**

The news stunned the wizarding world. After all, most people didn't even believe that enchantresses existed, and so the notion that one not only existed but that she was terribly powerful was difficult for many to grasp. The fact that as a non-witch her magic had never been noticed, which meant that she had grown up as a muggle and received no magical training whatsoever, was just as remarkable. It had been, in retrospect, a most short-sighted decision of the Ministry to declare that those magical people who were not witch or wizard would not be included in the wizarding world. After all, if Glory had been brought up in the wizarding world, and taught their ways and beliefs, then things might perhaps have turned out differently. But it was too late for lamenting now. Glory had been discovered and taught by none other than Lord Voldemort, a wizard so evil that only the exceedingly brave or exceedingly foolish dared speak his name. The fact that Voldemort now had a powerful enchantress in league with him wasn't even the worst of it. For Glory wasn't just a Death Eater.

She was his wife.

And Voldemort now had the opportunity to produce heirs, ensuring that a dark lord would always, forevermore, exist to break the fragile peace of the wizarding world.

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**THE RIDDLE TWINS**

**CHAPTER ONE**

The Dark Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, and quite possibly the most evil wizard alive at present, glared into the glass-green eyes of the young woman facing him. It was a testament to the woman's unusual character that she wasn't in the least fazed by receiving a look that would have had Voldemort's foremost Death Eater cringing in terror.

"They're fourteen, dear one," Glory told him firmly, steel showing in her gaze. "They need to have some experience of the normal world, learn how to deal with other people their own age. We have taught them all we can. It is time that the twins were sent to Hogwarts."

Voldemort was beat and he knew it. Usually Glory backed him completely, acting as a thoughtful adviser, but when she decided that she wanted something, then she would get it. Not for the first time he had wondered how he'd ended up letting Glory have so much control over him. It was odd, how quickly he had become fond of the long-legged, quick-tongued child his Death Eaters had captured some fifteen years ago whilst out on a muggle-baiting expedition. They had returned dragging a muggle teenager, who had screamed at the Dark Lord, "&! you, you bloody half-blood!"

By some miracle of fate she had seized on the very phrase that could make him pause. No muggle – indeed, few wizards – knew of his immediate ancestry. By the time he had worked out that it had been mere luck that Glory had insulted him so, he'd become inexplicably fond of the girl. She amused him, and she was intelligent and strong-willed as well as attractive, and he decided to keep her alive for the time being. Not long after, he found that while he had believed himself to be completely without a heart, Glory had nonetheless managed to find it and worm her way into it. Then she had discovered her magic and become as formidable as he, and they had ended up as Lord and Lady Voldemort, the terrors of the wizarding world.

The Dark Lord came out of his thoughts to find his wife still watching him.

"As usual, you are right," he hissed out silkily. "Much as it enrages me to admit it."

Glory just smiled at him as he snaked his arms around her and pulled her close. He was so possessive, her dear one. Predatorily so. It had been disturbing at first. She tilted her head and he brought his flat face down to kiss the side of her neck, the long pale fingers caressing skilfully. She leaned back into him, pressing provocatively against him…

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Salazar remarked. Glory moved her head lazily to bring her children into view while her husband continued his seduction.

The twins had somehow ended up with precisely the same features that Voldemort had once possessed, before dark spells and magics had mutilated his handsome face. Their likeness to him and to each other was, to say the least, striking. Ebony even had his sleek black hair, unlike Salazar, who had inherited his mother's blond locks. The only real difference between Tom Riddle's former face and theirs was that where his eyes had been a cold, pitch black, the twins each had the bright, glass-green eyes of their mother.

"You shouldn't be in here to see it," Glory informed him casually, knowing quite well exactly how the twins had circumvented the wards. Salazar shrugged and flickered a glance towards Ebony, placing all the blame on her shoulders. When the twins were been born, Voldemort and Glory had agreed that as his heir, Voldemort would train Salazar to be the next Dark Lord, while Glory would train their daughter in enchantress magic. The situation hadn't quite worked out as planned. While Salazar was, indeed, powerful and competent in his own right, in the end it was Ebony who was the leader of the two, and not him. While their separate training continued, Voldemort regarded them both as heir, and the twins intended to be twin Dark Lords, working together as they always had.

Now Glory raised her eyebrows at her daughter, because the only way the two of them could have entered was if Ebony had used her powers as an enchantress to force her way past the security spells.

Ebony simply shrugged slightly.

"If we don't leave now, we're going to be late and miss the train," she said by way of explanation. Glory smiled slightly and pulled away from her husband.

"Very well, you two. Got your trunks?"

The twins nodded in complete synchronisation.

"Only a glance at which objects is enough to inform the casual observer of which house we expect to be in," Ebony remarked dryly and somewhat caustically. Glory had to bite back a laugh as she thought of the trunks, each of which had the Slytherin crest emblazoned on the sides.

Voldemort frowned, and Glory hastily ushered the children out of the room before he could embark on one of his 'blood and ancestry are important' speeches that he was so fond of.

A quick spell later and the twins and their mother were walking onto platform nine and three-quarters at Kings Cross station, Salazar and Ebony in their school robes, Glory's identity hidden by the hood of her cloak, only her golden-bright hair visible.

They stopped near the train, and Glory bent to hug each of them firmly.

"Good luck," she told her offspring, stepping back. "I love you. Make sure that you write regularly, either separately or in tandem. Just try and write at least once a week. Be careful, and try not to cause too much trouble."

"Who, us?" Salazar asked sceptically.

"Impossible," Ebony agreed. Glory leant forward slightly so that they could see her mischievous smile and the bright green eyes alight with laughter.

"Of course not. You're in no way like me, after all," she replied, making the twins grin. A quick glance around, a small wave, and their mother disappeared off the platform.

Ebony and Salazar quickly boarded the train and began the search for a suitable compartment, beginning at the end one.

"Hi," said Salazar, he and Ebony sticking their heads around the door simultaneously. "Can we sit here?"

There was a black-haired, green eyed boy sitting with a girl of about the same age, who had the same green eyes but flaming red hair instead of black. On the other side sat another two redheads, a boy and a girl, these two with brown eyes.

"Ah," Ebony noted with interest. "James and Molly Potter, fourth and third years respectively, and their dear cousins Christopher and Persephone Weasley, also third year."

"Who are you?" James demanded suspiciously. He really did look remarkably like his father, with the same messy back hair and brilliant green eyes.

Salazar grinned and pushed the door open a little so that he and his sister could both stand in the doorway.

"Salazar – "

" – and Ebony –"

" – the Riddle twins," they finished in unison, drawing closer together and raising their eyebrows in identical, half-satirical expressions.

The reaction was immediate.

"_Riddle?_" both the Weasleys and the Potters exclaimed. James was up almost instantly.

"Get out!" he yelled. The twins glanced at each other.

"Hardly polite, Potter," Ebony observed.

"Nor diplomatic," Salazar added.

"We will follow your advice, however," Ebony said smoothly, and with one last, sardonic look at them all the twins left the compartment. One of the occupants slammed the door behind them.

Ebony and Salazar proceeded to another compartment. This time it was Ebony who greeted those inside.

"Hi," she said as Salazar's head appeared next to hers. "Can you spare a couple of seats?"

The conversation stopped and the twins were levelled with several appraising stares. The blonde boy nearest to them gave them a calculating look, his eyebrows rising very slightly.

"That depends on who you are," he replied coolly.

The twins expressions became ever-so-slightly disdainful and their noses rose marginally.

"We," the twins said together, quite blasé, "are Salazar and Ebony Riddle, generally referred to as the Riddle twins."

The boy gave them a still rather dubious look.

"I see," he drawled. "Both of your parents magical, I suppose?"

Their eyebrows rose and the almost inconsiderable disdain increased a little.

"Indubitably," Salazar replied coolly.

"Indisputably," Ebony added with hauteur.

They seemed to have passed the blonde boy's test, because he made a careless gesture towards the surrounding seats.

"We have a few seats free," he said casually. "I'm Malfoy, Maximus Malfoy."

The twins leaned forward.

"Of course," Ebony purred, " – Maximus – "

" – the beloved son of our _dear_ Draco Malfoy – "

" – grandson of the _unfortunate_ Lucius Malfoy –"

" – who did _not_, sadly, grasp the concept of loyalty."

"We've wanted to meet you for quite some time now," Ebony finished, just as smoothly as she'd started. Twin pairs of bright glass-green eyes gleamed at him.

Maximus' pale cheeks attained a slight pink tinge.

"My grandfather is better than yours, Riddles!" he snapped. The twins eyebrows rose.

"In terms of blood, you are probably correct," Ebony replied. "But I wouldn't take that tone with us."

"You'll find out why soon enough," Salazar said, his tone conversational. "Since our dearest father has decided to reveal the existence of his twin heirs to his, ah, _family_."

The twins smirked evilly and sat back.

"You can't speak to me like that!" Malfoy cried, getting to his feet and holding his wand tightly. Suddenly two sets of cold eyes were boring into him inexorably. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, Ebony opened her mouth and let out a long, low hiss. Malfoy and the others started, and the others moved back nervously as Salazar opened his mouth and replied in kind. The two glanced at each other for a moment before looking back at Maximus with twice the coldness.

"We can speak to you however we like, Malfoy," Ebony told him icily. "Denying that fact will merely land yourself and your father in trouble."

"And if you think our father is bad," Salazar put in, "then you should meet our mother."

The two of them gave odd little smiles at that. Together they turned to the other students in the compartment.

"And who are all of you?" Salazar asked brightly.

"You're Parselmouths!" blurted one of the smaller boys. Ebony smiled at him.

"Perceptive of you. I'd thought that stating the obvious was more of a Hufflepuff trait."

The boy blushed and sank into his seat.

"We," Salazar remarked, leaning back into his own seat as his sister did the same, "speak Parseltongue, because we inherited it from our father. It would have been surprising if we had not. We are of the Slytherin line, after all."

Gasps from their companions. The more quick-witted among them realised almost instantly what this meant, and wide-eyed, they sent wary, respectful looks at the Riddle twins.

Malfoy, of course, was too caught up in his annoyance to put anything together.

"So you're of the Slytherin line," he sneered. "It's not like anyone's heard of your family recently!"

Ebony and Salazar's eyes met; they burst out laughing.

"You don't know much history, do you?" Ebony asked cheerfully, still giggling. "Honestly, what family do you think Lord Voldemort comes from?" She smiled ever-so-sweetly.

Maximus blinked, aware that he was missing something. Pieces began to come together in his head. Surely they didn't mean…

Two identical sets of eyes gleamed at him disturbingly. Malfoy let out a most-undistinguished yelp and took a set backwards, tripping over his trunk and slamming into the floor and his seat.

The twins smirked and Ebony peered down at him while Salazar surveyed the other occupants of the compartment. Maximus, wincing, looked up fearfully to find the black-haired girl smiling down at him, the look in her eyes indecipherable.

"Don't worry, we don't usually bite," she said, sounding surprisingly friendly.

"But we won't put up with disrespect," remarked Salazar. Ebony extended a hand towards Maximus, and after a moment he warily accepted it and allowed her to help him back up. Salazar watched mildly and wondered what his sister was up to.

-------------------------------------

While everyone else made their way to their house tables, Ebony and Salazar sauntered up to the head table for a quick chat with the headmaster. Albus turned to look at them as he approached, his expression quickly becoming inscrutable as he got a good look at the two.

"Good evening, sir," Salazar said politely.

"We apologise for not informing you earlier on, but my brother and I are here to begin our formal magical education," Ebony continued smoothly. They smiled in unison.

"We're the Riddle twins, sir: Ebony and Salazar."

Severus Snape choked on his pumpkin juice, something that no one could recall him ever doing before, at least not in his days as a teacher. He recovered to find himself under the scrutiny of two pairs of calculating eyes. His narrowed and he returned the calculating look. That seemed to tell them what they wanted to know, because they turned back to Dumbledore.

"So, sir, we'll need to be Sorted, assuming that we are allowed to attend," Salazar added, with a bit of charm, something he'd always been good at. Ebony probably could have done it too, if she'd tried, but she preferred to be more… subtle.

"I see that you've inherited your father's charm," Albus said, twinkling a little at him. Snape managed to refrain from choking this time.

The twins gave the headmaster thoroughly disbelieving looks.

"Our father, the walking corpse?" Ebony said incredulously. Once again, Snape choked, and was thumped on the back by Hagrid, which kindly-meant action almost hammered him into the table. He straightened himself and sent a particularly nasty glare at the man, which made Hagrid reflect that Snape was always going to be a snarky bastard.

Dumbledore (pretending that he wasn't greatly amused by the little scene occurring to his right) smiled at the siblings.

"Oh, your father was very charming in his day," he assured them. Salazar raised one mobile eyebrow.

"Personally, I feel we inherited more Mother's charm than our Father's," he observed. Ebony nodded her agreement.

"You will have to tell me more after the feast," Dumbledore smiled. The twins smiled back courteously, as though actually contemplating such a thing.

"For the moment, however, it would be best if you stood over near the door, so that you can be Sorted once the first years Sorting has been done."

Midget after midget filed past until finally Dumbledore stood.

"We have two more students needing to be Sorted," he announced jovially, "Ebony and Salazar Riddle. Miss Riddle, if you could take your turn first, please?..."

Ebony moved forward as composedly as usual, placing the hat on her head and feeling a tinge of annoyance as the brim slipped over her eyes.

_Gryffindor must have had a head the size of a manticore if this thing fit him_, she thought acerbically. A low chuckle sounded in her mind.

_A Riddle, are we?_ the Hat asked. Ebony presumed that the question was rhetorical and didn't reply. _Well, well. Your father has certainly achieved the greatness he achieved. But what about you?_

_Salazar and I will rule when his reign his finished,_ she replied coolly._ The Dark Lord and Lady, terrors of the wizarding world._

The Hat wasn't satisfied, however.

_Is that so? Hmm, not much of a challenge though, is it? Not when you haven't accomplished it by yourself. Still, you're certainly ambitious enough to achieve anything you want to, and already on the path to greatness. The house that will assist you the most in your endeavours is certainly_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ebony pulled the Hat off her head and calmly replaced it on the stool, taking a seat at the cheering Slytherin table next to Maximus. Salazar moved forward.

_Two Riddles at once, eh? I suppose you're planning to take over the wizarding world too?_

_I am my father's heir,_ Salazar replied shortly._ Naturally._

_Ah, but it's your sister who really runs the show, isn't it? Not that you don't have ambition, plenty of that, intelligence too, but if it's a competition between you and her then she's certainly going to win. Why not leave the Dark Lord business to her and find your own path, one where you can be in charge?_

Salazar didn't quite know how to respond. The Hat continued its musings.

_Well, whatever you choose to do, the alliances and connections that you forge along the way will only be of assistance, so I suppose that the best place for you would be _

"SLYTHERIN!"

Salazar took his place to his sister, exterior calm but mind whirling.

A path other than being Dark Lord?

Even as his brain scoffed at it another part embraced the idea wistfully. Everything that the Hat had said was true. Much as he loved his sister, he really would love to have a career of his own, a life of his own where he was his own person and not half of something. But turning his back on his position? his heritage? his father?

Ebony's thoughts were similarly disturbed. She'd always wanted to be a Dark Lady, always, from the time she was small and only Salazar was being raised as heir. She was just as good as he was and they did everything together, and if he was going to do it she would too. But the Hat's words resonated with her in a way she hadn't expected. It was right, she had more ambition than that, wanted to build up a reputation for herself rather than just as Voldemort's daughter. Besides, his position was too black-and-white; Ebony preferred to be on both sides of an issue and not in the spotlight but working behind the scenes to achieve what she wanted.


	9. Ballroom Bedlam

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**There's a ball. Voldemort invades during it. Things do not go as planned. If it had a title, it would be called **_**Ballroom Blitz.**_

**Author notes: **

_Yes, I know this is disturbingly weird, thank you. Blame the song. Listening to it too many times plays with my brain.__ This has been swirling around in it for months, so…_

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

_Oh I see a man at the back, as a matter of fact_

_His eyes are as red as the sun._

_And a girl in a corner_

_Let no one ignore her, coz she thinks she's the passionate one…_

_And the man at the back said  
"Everyone attack!" and it turned into a ballroom blitz.  
And the girl in the corner said "Boy I wanna warn ya,_

_It'll turn into a ballroom blitz!"  
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz_

_Ballroom blitz._

_ '_Ballroom Blitz', Sweet

**o0o o0o o0o o0o o0o**

A fancy-dress Yule Ball. Harry grumbled to himself as he escorted Ginny to the Great Hall. Honestly, wasn't the last one bad enough? Although at least _that_ one had a reason; this one was simply to 'improve morale in these dark times' as Dumbledore had put it. The ploy had worked, all right; as far as Harry could tell, most of the population of Hogwarts seemed to have actually _forgotten_ about the war, so intent were they on clothing and dates and hundreds of other miscellaneous things associated with balls.

As usual Harry had been asked out by far too many girls; he had turned them all down, having not even planned to attend the stupid thing. Then Ginny had suddenly turned up in front of him and informed him that he _would_ be taking her to the ball, or else.

Harry gaped at the determined looking redhead, his now-infamous poise deserting him. He and Ginny had become good friends over the past year or so, but the idea of it going any further had never occurred to him.

"You want to go to the ball with me?" was his first, unfortunately vocalized, thought.

"No, Harry," the redhead snapped impatiently, "I have a secret burning desire to attend with Malfoy."

While Ron was spluttering over this – Harry loved him like a brother but really, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed – and Hermione sat looking knowing and amused, Ginny sighed and said,

"Yes, of _course_ I want to go with you, Harry."

After a moment's further astonished staring, Harry realized that he was ruining his reputation and summoned up a charming smile.

"Then how could I possibly turn down such a charmingly-worded request – or do I mean command?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm before walking off, which led to Harry cornering Hermione for advice about what to do next as Ron demanded that Harry declare what intentions he harboured towards his little sister.

Harry knew he looked quite dashing as Salazar Slytherin – his robes were dark green, the hems trimmed with satin the color of new leaves and embroidered with silver snakes – and Ginny looked delightful in dark blue as Morgana, but he still wasn't happy about this ball business. Even if he'd learnt to dance. Nope. Not happy at all.

"Harry, stop pretending to sulk," Ginny ordered him. "It's not fooling anybody."

Harry sent her an affronted look, to which she returned a glare. He sighed and gave in.

"Very well, Ginny dearest, but only for you," he smiled. Ginny rolled her eyes; like Hermione and Professor McGonagall, she was immune to his winning ways.

Dinner had been eaten and people had just begun dancing when the hall doors flew open with a bang and black-robed, white-masked figures burst in. A moment later a pale, crimson-robed figure strode in reeking of power – Voldemort.

"This is going to go badly," Ginny noted.

Screaming, the students scattered as the dark lord smirked around the room, red eyes burning with malice. Yes, that was normal. Then things took an unexpected turn.

"You interrupted my dance!" exclaimed an indignant elf, and grabbing a silver platter tipped the remains of the food off it and _booong_ed the nearest Death Eater over the head with it. The other Death Eaters stared, nonplussed, as he collapsed in an unconscious heap.

The students decided that the elf had the right idea.

A moment later the hall was in chaos as Death Eaters were cursed by indignant fey, hexed by angry vampires and even knocked out by belligerent orcs. The Death Eaters returned fire as best they could, but they were used to people running and screaming, not attacking as a massed mob. They were also clearly outnumbered.

Voldemort stood for a moment, taking in the scene. He stalked past a Death Eater being beaten up by a couple of blue-haired teenage girls in short skirts and go-go boots, ignoring his cries for help, towards the green-clad figure still composedly dancing with his partner.

"_Potter!"_

Harry turned from Ginny to gaze at the dark Lord, raising an eyebrow.

"Voldemort," he greeted him, extending a hand in invitation. "Care to dance?"

For a moment the Dark Lord gaped at him, then the red eyes flickered – had that been a glimmer of humour? – before he stepped forward, taking Harry's hand and placing a hand on Harry's waist and leading him into an energetic waltz around the room.

As Harry was whisked past, students paused to stare at the sight of him dancing with the dreaded Voldemort.

"OI!" Ginny shouted after the pair, "this is going to turn into a right ballroom blitz if you don't stop dancing with my boyfriend, Mr Riddle!"

Voldemort looked down at the diminutive man whose green eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"Care to explain why we are dancing, Potter?" he hissed dangerously.

Harry shrugged.

"It seemed like a good idea. Certainly stopped the fighting; everyone's too busy staring at us to bother."

Voldemort glanced around; students, teachers, and Death Eaters alike were watching them, looking baffled.

The Dark Lord twirled Harry carefully and waited until they were pressed together again before he spoke.

"I'm going to kill Severus for convincing me to attack tonight."

Harry sniggered.

"How much did you bribe him?" Voldemort inquired.

"Five pounds of Basilisk scale," Harry said happily. "It was easy. Hell, convincing him to give me his firstborn child would have been easy with that stuff being waved in front of his face."

"Severus has a child?"

Harry grinned slyly.

"Ask him about a vampire, a bar, and way too much Firewhiskey."

"I don't want to know," the Dark Lord decided. "And I think, Mr Potter, that I had best lead my Death Eaters in a dignified retreat before we are entirely romped. You're going to pay for this next meeting, by the way."

"Ooh," Harry made a frightened face, "I am shaking in my dragonhide boots, my Lord."

Voldemort snorted and presented him to a narrow-eyed Ginny Weasley.

"Your faithful swain, my lady," he announced, bowing low. She glared at him, unappeased, before socking Harry in the stomach.

"Ow!"

As Harry doubled over in pain, Voldemort signaled his Death Eaters and they swept from the hall.

"That was the strangest thing I've ever seen," Ron said into the stunned silence.

"Let us continue with our festivities!" Dumbledore announced happily.


	10. AKs Reunion

**Title: Odd Ideas and Plot Bunnies**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**What's this all about?**

I get fanfiction ideas. Lots of them. Some of them are terrific, but often only a tiny fraction of them gets written, barely enough to make enough a chapter at times. But they're worth sharing, if only to give others inspiration. So here there are, each idea with its own chapter. You're welcome to borrow. Just give me credit for inspiration in your fic, that's all I ask.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Plot Bunny:**

**Ten years ago Harry Potter disappeared after the defeat of Voldemort. Now AK, Britain's most lethal wizarding assassin, gets an invitation from Hogwarts to attend his ten year reunion. How will Harry Potter's former classmates react to AK, master hitman? What will happen when AK meets Ginny Weasley, the girl he left behind? And most importantly, can Harry and his partner-in-crime work out who's trying to kill him before the person succeeds?**

**Author notes:**

_This was inspired by the weird combination of nonjon's "Dimension Hopping For Beginners" and the John Cusack movie "Grosse Point Blank."_

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

With a single _reducto_ AK blasted the door inwards, thereby negating the effect of the locking charm his quarry had placed on it. He strode into the room, gun in one hand and wand in the other.

The wizard yelled various hexes, some of them quite nasty, all of which AK dodged. He was so busy trying to curse the assassin that he never noticed the form that slunk in through the far door and shot him in the back of the head.

AK holstered his wand and put his gun away, as the other assassin walked forward to inspect the body. AK was thin but well-built, aged in his late twenties, dressed all in black and bristling with weapons – both muggle and wizard - although most of them weren't visible. Longish, springy black hair swept around his face and obscured his features, while muggle sunglasses concealed the piercing green eyes that were his second most-distinctive feature.

The second assassin, unlike AK, was female, and also in her late twenties. While AK was dressed as a muggle, the woman wore expensive black combat robes that buttoned down the front until they reached the waist, where they separated into two halves in the manner of a muggle trenchcoat in order to allow greater mobility, swirling about her body as she moved and revealing long legs clad in black-dyed basilisk hide. Unlike AK her hair was an almost-colorless shade of blonde and fell a short distance past her shoulders, ends flicking out in a manner reminiscent of Farrah Fawcett's famous hairstyle. After a moment she straightened and stood, blue eyes meeting AK's glare.

"Hey," she shrugged, "it was an easy shot, and it doesn't really matter as long as he's dead, right?"

AK continued to glare.

"He was _mine,_ Azrael."

Azrael rolled her eyes and holstered her gun.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, he was due to meet the curse of death that gave you name. Cool it, AK, and get those knickers straightened out."

AK snorted at the strangled metaphor, but followed her advice, letting the subject go. The two worked quickly, removing all traces of their presence before leaving as easily as they had come.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

The letters were sent out that afternoon.

_Dear Hogwarts Alumni,_

_As it has been ten years since you graduated from our institution, you are hereby invited to the reunion of all graduating students of 1999. An even meal and appropriate after-dinner courses will be provided. The dress code is formal attire._

_The reunion will be held on Hogwarts grounds on the tenth of July, from 6.30 – 11pm. Bringing a partner is permitted. _

_Please reply by owl no later than the twelfth of June._

_Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Headmistress_

_Hermione Weasley, Head of the 1999 Hogwarts Reunion Committee_

As the letters were automatically written and addressed by a programmed quill, designed to take information from the self-updating registers and rollbooks of Hogwarts, no one noticed that one envelope was addressed to _Mr H Potter a.k.a. A.K. Black, A black minivan, Somewhere in Europe._ If they had, they would have been shocked indeed, for no sign of Harry Potter had been seen since he had walked out of Hogwarts ten years ago after the defeat of Voldemort.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**


End file.
